Enmity
by MissMCQueen
Summary: One-shot, Yami Bakura isn’t the one to share his thoughts and feelings (he never will be) But there are parts of his life that give excuses for his strange behaviour.


It's happened, after so long I've converted from DBZ to Yugioh. (I was really getting sick of Dragonballz) and so here it is my first Yugioh fic to be published. 

**Sumary:** One-shot, Yami Bakura isn't the one to share his thoughts and feelings (he never will be) But there are parts of his life that give excuses for his strange behaviour. 

**Author:** Missq 

**Homepage:**

  
  


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**Enmity**

  
  
It's sickening you know, but sickening isn't the true word to describe suck a thing. I prefer words like loathsome and nauseating, even going so far as to say repulsive.  
It's enough to make you feel like ending your very life out of shame and pity. I know I would do such a thing if I wasn't the person I was. Because even though I sound like I'm over exaggerating, these are the emotions I feel. 

You see every time I see the angelic look of innocence and purity all I feel like doing is hitting him. That very face and attitude reminds me too much of things that I never want to remember or think about ever again. Even though my memory is blurred and hazy I still remember things as a child, no matter how much I want to drill the very images out of my head and smash them to pieces they still exist. It is as if the very purpose of their existence is to haunt me of my past. 

You see I was once a thief, my life was nothing more than dark, malevolent, and evil. If you had even dared to cross my path back then I wouldn't have thought twice about ending your pitiful life, that was who I was. My life consisted of two things, blood and pain. Those were the way my life went and I could remember no other way to live. If you had put me in a good home with good people I would have run screaming, because by the time I had reached puberty my mind had already been warped beyond repair. 

Now what really made me the way I was were my goals, and these goals came together in my head because of my suffering. And like most people who had suffered, I wanted to see others suffer the same way I had. In some ways I wanted to take revenge on the world for being so cruel towards me.  
You hear about people struggling every day through war and tragedy, but I'll tell you that is absolutely nothing compared to what I had endured at a young age, compared to me their lives were a walk in the park. 

Believe it or not but the one thing that had saved my life at such a young age was my fear. When I heard the pharoah's men approaching the village I hid, I was a shy child and the sound of the horses scared me, I didn't like anything out of the ordinary.  
I hid and watched the other children come out of their houses to greet them. My guess was that even a few of them could possibly have been my friends. And so I stood there and watched them get slaughtered. 

I can still remember the cry of fear and pain, I have never been able to forget the sound of metal against flesh, the sight of the village burning. It was then that I first saw blood. I saw the blood of my family spill onto the sand and mark it crimson. I learnt that blood it's self meant death. 

As these images were played before me I could feel my very mind snapping. And the whole time I stood there I could only think of one thing, _When will I be next._

But the thing was they never saw me, out of the entire population I was the one person the walked away alive that day. But even though the blood was circulating though my body I could feel nothing but dead inside. I knew that even though I had not a scratch I was dead right down to the soul. 

At first I wished I had been braver, I wished that I had died along with the other children and gone into the next world. At least that way I would've had to suffer at all. But since I was still only young I didn't know the true meaning of suicide. Instead I began to hurt myself. 

I don't know my I took my mental abuse out on my own body but it felt like a good idea at the time. I wanted to know how it felt to hurt, I wanted to know what my friends had felt like as they were killed off like shooting ducks. In some ways causing myself physical pain took away the pain I felt mentally. I could have killed myself too if I had only been brave enough to have cut along the deadly veins. But even though my madness was beginning I was still innocent. 

Egypt now is a tourist attraction. You see over weight junked food junkies in their Hawaiian shirts and shorts having their pictures taken next to the pyramids and sphinx. There's museums and monuments. A police force to keep law and order. But I can assure you when I first saw the capital none of that existed.  
Back then it was vile and corrupted, if you were physically weak in any way you didn't stand a chance. I was weak but yet I survived. 

The only way I stayed alive was by stealing. But I'll tell you it didn't come naturally, I was caught a few times and I had scars on my face to prove it. But over time I slowly learnt. 

Now over time people who have suffered manage to slowly move on. Even if it isn't much they still improve slightly. But I can tell you the dead part of me was only replaced by madness. As my talent for stealing grew I became more cocky and arrogant, the environment around me turned my innocent nature cold and bitter. And believe it or not I began to like the person who I had become. I had turned from a fearful child to the king of thieves. There wasn't one person who dared to oppose me. But that didn't matter at all, because by this time only one thought and dream plagued my mind, _Revenge._ Even though I had gained a large amount of self confidence I still hated myself for what I had been. 

Though all this hate and madness life simply meant nothing. I was a psychopath and I wanted to show Egypt the true meaning of the word. Even if it meant my death I wouldn't care, after all as a I said before, I was already decomposed. 

So I went on my rampage and the result was to be expected, I was killed. But the thing was even though my heart had stopped pumping and my body turned cold my soul was still alive. 

I knew that was my curse, instead of going to a hell I would have felt comfortable in I ended up becoming immortal. For a total of three thousand years I lay dormant in darkness. Left to slowly rot away and become madder than I already was. Not too long ago they used to place men in dark cells for days till they finally snapped. It was like that for me, only times that by over a thousand. 

But there was a small advantage to this that kept a small part of my sanity, I could feel power. I could feel the very darkness pulsing though my soul and I liked it. And over time I wanted more, I wanted the dark power that I had once longed to achieve. And as my memory slowly began to fade away year by year that one goal remained clear as day within my mind. Even the darkness could not erase that. 

As the centuries passed the ring its self lay dormant on the tablet that I had once placed it a pone. I felt no being so much as touch it or attempt to were the damn thing. And slowly my frustration grew.  
But still I began to learn a few things about the ring it's self. I learnt that if I gathered enough energy over a hundred years I was capable of separating from the ring for an hour at the most. Even if I could only move 100 meters away it still proved to me that the world still existed. This was one of the way that I had actually managed to keep up with the times. 

As archaeologists studied the sight of the tablet they left many things behind. Even if they had never found the tablet its self their possessions and junk became my way of learning. Newspapers and other old magazines stoped me from being completely ignorant of the modern age. 

Then something happened. When it had finally reached three thousand years since my imprisonment I could feel life around me. I could feel the ring being lifted from the tablet after sitting there for far too long. I could feel the very excitement pulsing through my soul. I could remember thoughts crossing my mind such as the idea that I could live yet again. But my hopes were shattered after not to long. 

As soon as the ring was placed around a person's neck I felt anger pulsing through the millennium item. It was as if the item was outraged at whoever had dared attempt to wear it. I could sense the individuals soul being ripped from their body. I would have laughed at this slaughter if I didn't want a host so badly. 

For a while the same thing happened no matter who attempted to wear the ring. And over time I had given up hope of ever having the power that I longed so greatly for. As the ring changed hands over and over again, I paid no notice because I knew that who ever owned the ring next was doomed to suffer a painful death. 

Then something happened, I felt the familiar surge the ring made when ever it was placed a pone a new person. I waited for the feeling of anger and outraged but none came. All I could feel was power. 

At this I was confused, but at the same time excited. Not only could I feel power yet again but there was this mumbling of thought. As if there was someone talking yet it wasn't me. As I concentrated on this I could feel another consciousness, another mind and soul as if it were my own but at the same time not. 

My first reaction was to yell out to it, but I got know reply. So I did the only thing that I could do, I walked thought the darkness and towards what I could sense. But as I came closer and closer I found that no matter what I couldn't pull away and turn back. It was as if I was being a lead by a force that was far beyond my control. 

And then this strange feeling over came me I couldn't make sense of it at all, it was simply an enigma that I couldn't solve. I felt as if something else was being joined to the ring. It was as if wether that soul realised it or not it was happening. Light began to fill my dark soul room that had lain vacant for so long and for the first time in years I could see light. But it wasn't the light that bewildered me it was what I was staring at. 

To be honest it was as if I was looking though another person's eyes. That other person was staring at a mirror. The mill ring was hanging loosely around their neck. I let out a soft chuckle, I remembered thinking that at long last I could have the power I wanted and lusted for, that my time in darkness hadn't been a waste. But as I studied the reflection in the mirror my breath became caught in my throat. 

The person who looked back wasn't far off from the image of myself all those long years ago. The only thing was he was far younger looking, not to mention the fact that he housed no scars and his eyes were full of nothing but innocence. The very sight of that innocence shocked me. 

I soon found out that he was called Ryou by his father. Ryou was a soft name for a soft person, my new host was almost a disappointment. But the thing was the ring wasn't compatible with any other individual so I didn't have much of a choice. If his appearance wasn't enough to shock me it was the last part of his name. I didn't realise it at first but he was only called Ryou by his father, everyone else called him Bakura. 

Bakura was once my name, it was cold, harsh, and a name to be feared. Ryou himself made it seem pathetic. Every time someone addressed him I could feel my ears prick. I loathed the way someone so pure had my name. I almost felt like abusing him about it but I knew that no matter how loud I yelled he would never so much as hear a whisper. 

And so it began. I could hear his thoughts and wishes, out of boredom I even went so far as to grant a few in my sick and twisted way. I learnt a lot more about the world outside my home from simply looking through his eyes. From time to time I even took over his body to look for any clues to the where a bouts of the mill items. I knew that if the mill ring had somehow made it's way across the globe there was a chance that the few remaining items that were on the tablet had also left. 

Now I of course caused him pain, the mill items themselves were pain so I guess it couldn't be helped. Even though he didn't show it on the outside he was suffering from oppressions. And the amusing thing was that the innocent little angel had no idea what the cause off all his suffering was. Some say ignorance is bliss. 

Then he moved schools and made new friends. (I had taken it a pone myself to get rid of his old ones since they were nothing more than a bunch of English twits) I would have never once expected what I would find in a dump like Domino high. The mill puzzle. 

The puzzle its self belonged to another little twit by the name of Yugi Motou, only this little brat was worse than Ryou's previous little buddies. Come to think off it I wouldn't have minded slaughtering the entire little Japanese group. I especially wanted the tri coloured freak's girlfriend Anzu's death to be long and painful. All her little friendship stuff got under my skin. Friends are for the weak who can't look after themselves. 

The very second Ryou touched the puzzle a pulse of energy ran through the ring. I heard him open his mouth to mention his pendant, and I wouldn't allow it. I clenched his heart so hard that he became lost for breath. This stoped him blabbing about the mill ring to those freaks. 

The advantage of this was that he could at long last hear me. No matter what he did he could never escape my presence. The pointers of the ring fused into his skin so their would be no escape. If he thought his life was bad before, his true suffering was only beginning. 

To make a long story short I failed to get the stupid little piece of pyramid crap. Not only that but I discovered that the damn annoying little pharoah's soul had decided to make home there the same way I had with the ring. Unlike me he had even gone so far as to have forgotten his stupid name (baka), let alone remember the thief that made his life hell. 

Now soon something came to my attention, that some one was Ryou. Even though he had my name and appearance I had been too shocked to have noticed how alike we truly were, and this was something I hated. 

But then I realised that we were not only alike, but we were the same. I used to have the same look, the same smile, the same laugh and attitude while I had still been young and innocent. Ryou was a version of myself if I hadn't suffered. I soon came to realise that he was my very reincarnation, my heart and the innocence within my soul that the mill ring had spat out. 

But this just made me hate him even more. This is what sickens me, I had gone from the king of evil to a child that would vomit at the idea of even shedding blood. It was stupid and laughable, and this just made me loathe him beyond limits. 

So I began to hurt him the same way I had once hurt myself. I wanted to see that stupid angelic look wiped from his face. I wanted to see him tainted and jaded. I wanted him to suffer true pain that he could never escape from because I was him. 

He tried to rip the ring from his neck but this just made him suffer even more. The ring had made us one and any attempt to separate himself from me made him feel empty. And this very experience was extremely painful. 

His exposure to me changed him slowly. Even though his friends fail to notice it it's still happening. Even though on the outside he seems happy, on the inside he's screaming. I hear his thoughts and those once pure thoughts are slowly turning darker by the day. It's a simple fate that can't be changed. Even if he tries his best to not be like me he's only slowing down the process, and he knows it. 

You see Ryou's heart has always been dark, after all it was once mine. But he has always refused to embrace the darkness that has always been a part of him. He refuses to realise that that very darkness was what made me strong. But ever so slowly as I break his will I feel him giving in. Shadows are forming in his once clear mind. 

Such as blood. It was laughable how he used to feel sick at the very sight of it. Every time he cut himself his face used to turn pale. The smell it's self would have been enough to make him faint.  
But now things are different. Sometimes when he has a knife and no one is in sight he cuts himself and watches as the red substance flows from the wound. It's not an obsession but he dose it anyway. 

When he is alone and assumes that I'm dormant his happy face falls. He sits in the darkness of his room and stares out to space. His warm eyes turn black and emotionless, it then that his true mood shines through. Little do his little friends know how truly far he has come on the path to darkness. I feel the way that death is slowly becoming nothing to him. He has already lost so many close people in his life that he no longer feels when people die. Sometimes he even wishes he was dead. 

And so it happens. It's only a matter of time before his change is complete. You see that if he truly becomes like me there wouldn't be two identical souls. It doesn't work like that. The more he darkens the more our souls bind, till eventually there would only be one. Eventually my soul would join with Ryou's and he would have all my memories. The same fusion would happen if he ever managed to remember his past life as me. 

That is our fate and so it will happn. ................ 

  
  


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Take note that I was writing my story in a room full of 9-11 year old boys screaming their heads off over the PS2 and fighting so it's a miracle that I even managed to write. 

Ok this sorta started out as one of those 'Bakura abuses Ryou, and why he dose it' things. But it just slowly turned more and more into Bakura's thoughts and feelings. 

Missq 


End file.
